Nauti Dreams (22 page)

Chaya.

He stared into her eyes. Honey eyes. Eyes that drew him in and promised him life,

promised him joy. He could find joy with her. He found joy with her.

“You’re not serious,” she murmured, her voice as dazed as he felt lowering his hand once

more to her stomach. There, his child could be growing even now. Sheltered in the

warmth of her body, growing strong and sure.

Sweet God—the prayer slipped into his mind unbidden—let my child rest there. Within

the woman who held his soul.

“I’d die for you,” he said softly. “I’d kill for you, Chay. And I’d go to my knees for you.”

He had never willingly gone to his knees for anyone, man or woman, no matter how

many times his father had tried to force him there.

She blinked back at him. Those clear golden eyes of hers flickering with dreams that she

fought to keep buried, with hope that he knew she tried to hide.

She was his hope, but he knew, to the bottom of his soul he knew, he was hers as well.

“Natches.” She shook her head, her lips parted, fully, lush now with the arousal he knew

was moving through her.

It made her wet, just as it made him hard, the thought of coming together, bare,

unprotected, spilling into each other to create something new. Something innocent.

It shouldn’t have been that way. He knew that. Hell, the last thing he needed to think

about with his childhood was a kid. But a baby with Chaya? Something to bind her to

him forever, just as he would be bound to her.

Family was his salvation. His uncle Ray, his cousins, they were all the family he’d had.

He’d never had his own. Until now, he hadn’t wanted his own.

“You want me like that, Chay, don’t you?” He lifted her shirt, flattened his hand against

the bare skin of her stomach and watched her eyes.

It was Chaya’s eyes that held her secrets. There, they flickered in those honeyed depths,

the soft golden brown color warming him no matter her mood.

“Bare, Chay.” His jaw clenched at the hunger. “I want to pump inside you and feel you

reaching for me. Milking me. That sweet hot body taking my seed and nourishing it.”

Her face flushed instantly, hot, as her eyes flickered with fear and with dreams.

“I want to watch your stomach grow round with my baby. I want to lay my head against

it, feel our child move within you.”

She trembled, shuddered, and her eyes darkened as they always did when she began to

surrender to him.

He wanted that surrender.

Before his knees gave out on him he swept her up in his arms, ignoring her little cry of

protest and he carried her through the boathouse to the stairs. Up the rounded staircase, to

the bedroom, to the big bed that awaited them, the sun-drenched warmth that welcomed

them.

“We can’t just decide to make a baby.” She was breathing hard, rough as he set her on

her feet and pushed her blazer over her shoulders.

“Of course we can,” he crooned, knowing, as he had always known, how much she loved

that sound. When his voice roughened, deepened. She shivered in response to it. A sound

he had never known how to make, had never given another woman.

“It’s completely irresponsible,” she protested, but it was a moan, filled with surrender as

his hands stroked down her arms then gripped the hem of her shirt.

“It’s every dream I’ve ever had,” he told her as he tore the shirt from her body and

cupped those pretty breasts as they filled the lace of her bra. “I want to watch you nurse

our child here.” He kissed the full mounds as they spilled over the cups of her bra. “Chay,

you know you want it, don’t you, baby? Bound to me? You won’t be able to just walk

away anymore. Think of it, sweetheart. No more reasons to run, and every reason to lie in

my arms night after night.”

It was her nightmare and he knew it. He used it shamelessly, because he also knew it was

her weakness. His Chay. So tough, so determined to never lose again, to never hurt as she

had hurt before. To never risk having what she cherished most taken from her.

She had run from him, because she couldn’t face losing him. He’d figured that out about

her. Knew it about her. Just as she surely knew he wouldn’t allow her to run any longer if

she ever returned to Somerset.

The running was over.

“Natches, this isn’t a good idea.” She was thinking. He could feel her thinking.

His lips moved to hers. He sipped at her lips as a breathless moan passed them. He

stroked them with his tongue as he nearly tore his shirt from his own body. He caught

that lush lower curve between his lips and laved it, nipped at it, and watched her lashes

flutter over eyes gone dark with hunger.

No thinking right now, he decided. That sharp little mind of hers needed to rest; it needed

to be stroked and loved, tempted and teased. And he was just the man to do it.

He loosened her belt, aware of the weight of her weapon at her hip, and almost grinned at

the thought of it. His woman was a tough little warrior. She would walk by his side. She

wouldn’t put up with his moods, and she’d tell him like it was. Always. The thought of it

turned him on even more. She was a fitting mate for the darkness inside him, because she

lightened it.

He released her jeans, slid the zipper down, and, as he released her lips, slid his palm

beneath her panties to the sweet, rich flesh beyond.

So hot it almost burned. Swollen, slick with her sweet juices. His mouth watered at the

thought of tasting her again. Of burying his tongue inside her, and lapping at her like hot,

delicate candy. Like nectar. Like life itself.

“There, baby, let me have you,” he urged as she shook, trembled, her nails digging into

his shoulders as he held her to him. “Remember how good it is? How hot?”

He worked her jeans and panties over her hips, careful to keep in contact with the wet

folds between her thighs, his finger caressing, his palm grinding against her clit.

And she was burning for him. Her hips shifted, moving against his hand, grinding her clit

against his hand as he eased her to the bed.

Her cry of protest flamed through him as he moved his hand, but the taste of her exploded

against his tongue as he pressed a kiss against the swollen little nubbin of her clit.

As he kissed, licked her gently, he worked her boots from her feet and finished

undressing her. When she was soft and hot and naked, stretched across his bed and

immersed in her arousal, he paused long enough to jerk his boots off and finish

undressing himself. When he turned back to her, his sensual little kitten was on her knees,

gold eyes glittering with hunger now, her features flushed, desire raging in her eyes.

This was the woman he dreamed of. The woman who had taken him to heaven that night

so long ago.

His head went back as she came over him, her lips on his, her hands sliding over his

damp shoulders, nails raking as he ran his hands up her back and prepared to hold on for

the ride.

He remembered Chaya, wild and hungry, too long ago. He had ached for that woman,

needed her as he’d needed nothing else, tempted and teased her, and here she was. The

balm to the wounds that had festered inside his soul.

Chaya felt Natches ease back on the bed for her, felt his hard, muscular body laid out for

her, hers for the taking, and it was like coming home. Like being in the cold and then

sinking in front of a fire that filled the soul.

Natches’s fire filled her soul. And he offered it to her willingly. A sacrifice to the

unbearable hunger raging inside her now, untamed, breaking free of the fear that had

housed it for so many years.

Oh God, how had she stayed away from him? Five years. She had been without him for

five years and each day had been an eternity of need and loss that she hadn’t realized,

until now.

“God, Chay,” he growled, a deep, rough sound that stroked her senses as his hands

stroked her back. “There you go, baby. Come to me.”

She nipped at his lips, caressed them, and let him devour her. He didn’t let her control the

kiss; he never would, she knew. He was powerful, dominant, but he gave his body freely,

and tonight she intended to take. And take.

She trembled at the thought of taking all of him. Of giving all of herself. And she knew

that was exactly what she was doing, giving herself.

Lifting her head she stared down at him, at those wild green eyes, the way his thick black

hair fanned out from his savage face. The way the muscles flexed in his shoulders and

arms, the perspiration that trailed down his neck. And she had to taste it.

She lapped at it with her tongue, filled her senses with the taste of him, and gloried in the

sound of that rough male groan.

“I missed you.” The whimpering sob shocked her as it fell from her lips, pressed to his

flesh. “Oh God, Natches. I needed you. I needed you until I burned. Until I thought I’d

die without seeing you, hearing you.”

His hands flattened on her back, held her closer.

“I was right here, baby.”

Right here. In his bed, waiting for her.

Sleek and hard and hungry.

Her lips slid from his neck to his chest, feathered over hard male nipples before her teeth

raked first one then the other. He jerked beneath her, and she thrilled at the evidence of

his pleasure.

Another thing he gave her freely, his pleasure. She didn’t have to worry about how to

please him, because every touch she had ever given him, he had urged her on, relishing it.

“Ah, Chay, sweet baby.” His hands slid to her sides, to the curve of her breasts, and the

backs of his fingers caressed them with subtle heat.

He wasn’t stingy with his touches or his words.

Chaya luxuriated in the generosity. His heat, the friction of his hair-roughened male chest

against her swollen nipples. The feel of his muscles tightening, his breath rasping in his

lungs as her lips slid lower.

She took quick, heated kisses down the center of his body, moving with slow, delicate

greed to the thick, steel-hard shaft that reached up his lower stomach, eager for her touch.

Natches shifted, his hands pulling at her hips as her head went lower. And she

remembered that. Remembered how she had taken him in that humid little room in Iraq.

The night her tears had mixed with her release, and they had drunk from each other.

She tasted the head of his cock, her tongue licking over it, curling around the engorged

crest as the shaft jerked in response.

Natches lifted her leg as she slid into position, pulling her hips over his face and blowing

a heated breath against the wet folds of her sex.

A whimper fell from her lips, because she knew what was coming and she couldn’t wait.

She lowered herself to him, feeling his tongue slide through liquid heat and tender tissue

to burrow inside her vagina. Her lips opened over the head of his cock, her hands stroked

the heavily veined shaft and Chaya let herself be taken, even as she took.

She worked her pussy on the thrusting tongue tormenting her with wicked pleasure. And

with her mouth, she tormented in turn, crying out with delight, with need that bordered on

pain.

His hands stroked over her rear, between the full curves, and teased the delicate flesh

there as he worked his tongue through the slit of her pussy, circled her clit, and rubbed at

it erotically. Stealing her mind.

She couldn’t allow him to steal her mind. Not yet. She needed to stroke him, touch him.

She needed to pour the past five years of loss and loneliness into every touch. Then she

needed to take him as she had dreamed of taking him. Riding them both into ecstasy.

Before he could stop her, not that he tried hard, she swung away, lifting herself from his

lips despite his growl of displeasure and her own aching regret.

She couldn’t touch him as she wanted to if he stole her strength as she was doing so.

When Natches touched her, she melted. Tonight, she wanted him to melt.

And Natches was melting. He stared down his body, strung tight with the most incredible

pleasure. Pleasure that went beyond pleasure and bordered on agony of sensations. Chaya

knelt above him, straddling one hard leg, rubbing the slick heat of her pussy against it as

she worked her mouth on his cock head.

Sucking and licking, moaning in pleasure as her honey gold eyes darkened further and

glittered with the needs rising inside her.

God he loved this. Seeing her like this. The agent disappeared beneath the woman’s

demands as those demands took over.

She sucked greedily at his cock head. Her hands stroked the shaft of his erection and his

balls as they drew up tight at their base.

He was in an agony of sensation now. Her hands were silken heat, her nails rasping, her

mouth. . . . Sweet heaven, her mouth was like ecstatic fire licking over his flesh as her

heated, wet pussy rubbed against his leg.

She was pleasuring him as she pleasured herself. Taking him and twining deeper into his

soul as she did so.

Chaya lost herself in each touch, in each taste of Natches’s hard body. As though she had

been born for this, to belong to him.

Drawing back she licked the hard crest one last time before allowing her tongue to taste

the thick, silken shaft. Heated iron met her lips, silken heat stretched tight. Heavy veins

throbbed with anticipation just beneath the flesh, and with each lick, she swore his cock